If that was me in that video I’d live off the glory for the rest of my life. I’d probably sit in a pub near a surf beach and get a flat-screen tele made that could hang around my neck and I’d loop that video indefinitely. Underneath the screen on my t-shirt it would say, “that’s me in that video” with an arrow pointing to the video. I’d drink rum and smile and be very happy that I was alive.
That’s what I’d do if that was me in that video.
As we usher in the dawn of the Obama presidency and bid adieu to the Bush decades – it was decades wasn’t it – the timing feels right to revisit a few of the ex-Pres’ best gaffes. I know it’s been done to death but I’m feeling a pang of nostalgia already and anyway, he started it!
So let’s look at this with a little perspective. For every ten times I cursed his foreign policy, his social policy or his environmental policy, his words provided me with a single, genuine belly-laugh, and that my friends, is a very special gift. For George Dubya Bush was the master of the off-the-cuff fuckup (OTCF), even when dealing in familiar territory.
So the Saying Goes
Remember these wise, wise words and if they moved you, like they moved me, share them with your children:
“There’s an old saying in Tennessee — I know it’s in Texas, probably in Tennessee — that says, fool me once, shame on — shame on you. Fool me — you can’t get fooled again.“
Prophetic, no? Well…..no.
International Diplomacy
If poor ol’ George was going to flounder recalling timeless Texan proverbs, then God help him on the International stage.
“Should the Iranian regime — do they have the sovereign right to have civilian nuclear power? So, like, if I were you, that’s what I’d ask me. And the answer is, yes, they do.“
What the fuck was that?
Then this happened:
“The German asparagus are fabulous.“
Breathtaking! Sometimes you astound me George, you follow up that Iranian drivel, with something as prophetic and beguiling as your take on German asparagus. You truly are an enigma.
“Oftentimes people ask me, ‘Why is it that you’re so focused on helping the hungry and diseased in strange parts of the world?’“
Like Germany?
“The problem with the French is that they don’t have a word for entrepreneur”
Strange! Yet uneducated and yokel both appear in the French dictionary.
Inter-Species Diplomacy
But at last we finally had someone in the Oval Office who stood up for the sea kittens:
“I believe human’s and fish can co-exist peacefully“
A President with a fishy vision, or was he:
“I didn’t grow up in the ocean — as a matter of fact — near the ocean — I grew up in the desert. Therefore, it was a pleasant contrast to see the ocean. And I particularly like it when I’m fishing.”
What was all that co-exist peacefully talk?
Dancing
“Yesterday, you made note of my — the lack of my talent when it came to dancing. But nevertheless, I want you to know I danced with joy. And no question Liberia has gone through very difficult times.“
I am sick to death of people linking Liberia and dancing! They are two totally different issues, get over it. Let’s move on!
White House Shenanigans
When we think of hanky panky in the White House, for most of us, kinky Bill “I did not have sexual relations“ Clinton leaps to the fore, but if these following quotes are anything to go by, Dubya and his cohorts got up to all sorts of freaky shit over the years:
“We’re concerned about Aids inside our White House – make no mistake about it“
Needle sharing, unprotected sex, you decide? But I must admit, homeland security was always an area I thought the Bush admin had well under control, until this:
“I remember meeting a mother of a child who was abducted by the North Koreans right here in the Oval Office“
I knew Kim Jong-il and his loyalists were working on some heavy-duty, top-secret shit, but this really takes the biscuit. Hell yeah I’m concerned.
“I’ll be long gone before some smart person ever figures out what happened inside this Oval Office.“
I knew it, I told you Mum, it is stupidity, not merely a case of brilliant subterfuge.
Education
“Rarely is the questioned asked: Is our children learning?“
Wanna know why that question are rarely asked?
Families
One day back in February I remember feeling down, deflated even. I’d spent most of the afternoon on the couch, eating cheese and onion crisps off my girlfriend’s back, pondering life, food, family. What really troubled me that day — I can only just talk about it now — was that no-one had ever seriously addressed the issue of where wings take dream. I mean, never really gotten down to the basics. Well….all that was about to change!
“Families is where our nation finds hope, where wings take dream.“
Of course! It all made sense now. You saved me that day George, you got my life back on track and gave it purpose. And as if to drive your words home you reminded me of the following:
“I know how hard it is for you to put food on your family.“
A problem I’d been tackling only minutes earlier. A problem that you helped me put in perspective. I problem, that eventually, you helped me overcome and for that, I’ll always be truly thankful.
The End of an Era
From a satirical perspective, will there ever be another political figure so qualified to provide the public with so many genuine moments of ‘what the fuck‘? I doubt it.
It would remiss of me not to leave the parting words to the man himself and bury the hatchet so to speak.
“I think we agree, the past is over“.
What’s better than a freshly baked croissant for breakfast? A croissant where the pastry is flaky and still warm, the ham is straight off the bone and the cheese is melted to perfection. I can almost taste that bad boy now. Mmmmmm, sounds good huh? But now there’s an oily film on the top of my imaginary latte. But I digress.
Unless you’re spending a night in a swanky hotel, how is it that you can get hold of a piping hot croissant first thing in the morning? I mean, it’s not as if there’s a sort of shop like a butcher shop or a grocer shop that sells bread and bread type products is there. I wish!
And who knows how to make those little bastards from scratch huh? I mean, what’s in a croissant? Is there fish in there? What sort of herbs should you use? Can they be steamed or should they be boiled? Doesn’t boiling kill a lot of the vitamins in a croissant? How do you make them so high? So many questions. Who knows that shit? Am I right? Am I right?
Anyway, back in Helsinki they’ve got the whole issue of home-cooked croissants sussed. Never again will you need to stay in a posh hotel just to get a croissant fix. Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to introduce, croissants in a can (see picture above).
Yes, after years of laboratory testing the good people at Danerolles (that’s Danish for fuck you France) have managed to apply can technology (the very same technology that was applied to little hot dogs in the 70’s) to the humble croissant. And I for one, just couldn’t be happier. Really!
The Mooc has the breath of an angel and can move sideways quicker than you. He is at once talkative and shy, with a razor wit and bayonet smile. Men are known to contemplate gayness upon catching his scent – a sort of wasabi infused honey. His skin glows like a commercial. Neither tall nor short (4 foot 23 on the old scale) he’s both chiseled and supple in equal measures. As an interesting side note, Scott Baio once commented on his feet.
A youthful Mooc battled Bill Cosby – though Bill was young and impressive then – and would have had him too if the law of the day had allowed his tactic.
At a not-so-recent ceremony he employed a tuxedo so powerful and ingratiating that he received an on-the-spot lifetime achievement award. All this at the age of 26 and with little or no achievement to speak of. That was, that is, the Mooc. Enigmatic, sure, phlegmatic, yeah why not, passionate, without doubt, egotistic, fuck off!
The tux aside, clothes and the Mooc have enjoyed an on again, off again relationship. He wears them with aplomb when he does and swings majestically when he does not.
Pleasantries are not required in his presence. He’ll force you down if you persist and drag you if he feels the need. Once at a rally for those in need he gave a speech so inspiring, 17 died and 12 were injured. On another occasion he argued that colour didn’t exist. He won that! He wins most.
Me: So I’m thinking of giving this whole blogging thing a bit of a go. What do you think?
My Friend: A blog, what the hell for? Haven’t you got like ten web-sites sitting out there silently gathering cyber-dust already? Why not re-vamp one of them?
Me: Because I want to write what I want to write, when I want to write it, I’m slightly aroused by the ease with which I can incorporate Wordpress plugins and none of my sites up until now have had a yellow logo……but mainly the writing thing.
My Friend: What are you going to call it?
Me: Astray buffet dot com.
My Friend: Ashtray buffet, you don’t even smoke, that’s just weird!
Me: No, astray buffet.
My Friend: Oh……that’s weird too, and nonsensical!
Me: So what, it rhymes. That’s important right?
My Friend: What are you going to write about?
Me: I dunno, all sorts of stuff.
My Friend: You’re going to get on your soapbox aren’t you?
Me: No!
My Friend: I bet you will. You’re going to rip the piss out of easy targets like late night informercialists, Judge Judy and Eastern European fashionistas.
Me: Easy tiger!
My Friend: You’re going to rant and rave about the fundamental genius in films like The Kentucky Fried Movie and Top Secret, you’re going to rally for the return of Arrested Development and you’re going to call for the culling of a largish percentage of TV chefs.
Me: So?
My Friend: I bet you’ll write a piece a week pretending to be someone else like a Russian oil tanker captain, a Moldovan farmer or a Cuban dissident. You’ll play on national stereotypes, prefix every noun with about eight adjectives and look for cheap laughs using gutter humour.
Me: You going to take a breath?
My Friend: You’re going to incessantly bang on about how crucial coffee is to morning productivity, you’ll wax lyrical about advancements in toothbrush and razor blade technology and you’ll talk with forged authority on far away places that you know no-one else has visited. One day in a fit of desperation after a prolonged bout of writer’s block you’ll share your chicken and mushroom risotto recipe with your oh-so-lucky readership, building it up to be some top-secret ambrosia and not the crunchy white mud it is.
Me: I hate you!
My Friend: You’ll blather on about Formula 1 and Le Tour de France like you know an air intake valve from a 48 tooth sprocket and I’ll put money on you eventually mentioning you wish you: a) could play the guitar b) were a carpenter and c) had perfect teeth. Oh……and I bet there will be some links to your second rate photography somewhere on……are you crying? You are aren’t you, you’re crying! You’re bloody pathetic, you know that! I’m outta here!
